


Sex Education

by bluevalentine69



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And a teacher at his school ..., Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Explicit Sexual Content, Freya and Hunith are BAMF, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Humor, Hunith's a Sex Therapist, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Merlin's mums are gay, Oblivious Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Pining, Pining Merlin (Merlin), Rimming, Smut, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Uther's a good guy, merlin loves glitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 06:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17934776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluevalentine69/pseuds/bluevalentine69
Summary: “Welcome back to your final year at school everyone,” Hunith says briskly, setting up her laptop at the front of the class. “Today we’re going to have a slightly more mature SRE discussion. You are all young adults now, and Sex Education is something you have been well versed in over the years. This term we’re going to focus our attention instead on Relationship Education. But first we’ll be talking about Parental Relationships, and how to tell your father and/or mothers that you’re a) having sex, and b) in a relationship for the first time, so that they’re not a) taken by surprise, or b) left in the dark. Who wants to start?” Arthur bursts out laughing as Merlin actually slides off his chair and under the table. “Something you want to share, Merlin?” Hunith asks innocently.“Nope,” the disembodied voice answers.“In the interests of the aforementioned maturity required in discussions about relationships, would you like to revise your answer, perhaps?”“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” the desk mutters.“I was given orders by the headmaster,” Hunith replies.“Oh, god,” the desk groans miserably.





	1. Chapter 1

****“Your porridge is ready love!” Hunith calls up the stairs. She’s met with silence and turns to look at her wife, sitting in a banana onesie at their breakfast bar.

“He’s just nervous,” Freya soothes her reassuringly, standing up and coming over to put her arms around Hunith, kissing her neck lightly. “It’s been hard on him. Moving around so much. Another new town. First day at another new school.”

“It’s a fantastic school, he should be excited!” Hunith says sharply, moving back into the kitchen to pour coffee and liberally apply red lipstick. It had been hard on the family for years. Hunith’s job as a Sex Therapist meant that she was constantly moving clinics up and down the country, and Freya’s job organising music festivals meant that she was away from home a lot, leaving Hunith to single-parent as well as earn the major bulk of their family income. It was putting too much pressure on their relationship, and on their thirteen-year-old son Merlin, who needed both his mums at this tricky age. Hunith’s brother, Gaius, offered them a solution. He was the Head of History at Camelot High - a progressive private school with Sex Education and Inclusion and Diversity schemes, and Arts and Drama and Sports scholarships for gifted but poor students a major part of its curriculum and ethos - and he suggested that Hunith come and work at the school as Head of EDI and SRE - Equality, Diversity and Inclusion and Sex and Relationship Education. Part of the package was a music scholarship for Merlin, who happened to be musically gifted, thanks to the DNA gifted to him by Freya. It seemed to good to be true for Merlin; a private education at a progressive school (it was sometimes tough for him, having two mums), and it was close enough to the Ealdor Fringe Festival that Freya could take up a permanent residence as Creative Director for the festival organisers and commute to work daily, keeping the family together.

“He is excited,” Freya says quietly. “You know how he gets.” She puts a placating hand on Hunith’s arm. “I’ll go and check on him.”

 

Merlin is sitting cross-legged on the floor of Hunith and Freya’s bedroom with Freya’s tray of glitters in front of him, carefully applying purple glitter to his eyelids. His cheekbones are also smeared with glitter, and his neatly parted hair is suspiciously sparkly too. Freya smiles inwardly. Her son really hasn’t fallen far from the tree.

“There’s a glitter lipgloss too, if you want it,” she says, coming to sit next to him. He waves said cosmetic in her direction in acknowledgement. “Nervous?” she asks. Merlin always ODs on glitter when he’s nervous. Freya wears glitter everyday, and when - as a little boy - Merlin asked why, she’d replied that it was impossible to be unhappy if your face was sparkling. Merlin had taken that lesson very seriously. He shrugs a boney shoulder. She prods it. “Oi. It’s rude to ignore people.” Merlin turns beautiful, plaintive blue eyes on her.

“I’m going to school with _mum_ ,” he says, scandalised. “And she’s teaching _sex_.” Freya agrees it’s a pretty traumatising set of circumstances for the poor kid.

“Yeah, I hear you dumpling,” she says with a sigh. “Don’t tell anyone and you might get away with it.” Merlin wrinkles up his nose and huffs. She smiles, standing up and pulling him to his feet. “Let’s have a look at you then.” Part of Camelot’s progressive policy is the students’ right to assert their sartorial individuality within the parameters of a uniform dress code. Merlin is wearing the regulation navy trousers, white shirt and blazer, but he’s also wearing his favourite pink glitter Converse hi-tops and array of different mood-rings - and the face glitter. He looks up at her cautiously, playing with the cuffs of his blazer. She takes his face in her hands. “You look very smart, very sparkly, and very handsome,” she promises, and she’s rewarded by his face-splitting grin.

“Thanks mama,” he whispers, hugging her tightly.

“Go and eat the porridge mum made for you,” Freya chides him, and he nods and trudges downstairs.

 

Hunith drops Merlin around the corner from the school gates so that he can arrive without her, as previously discussed and agreed. She bites her lip as she watches him head off, head held high, swamped by his enormous backpack and with strict instructions to sign-in at Reception. She hopes he makes some friends here. He’s a very gentle, sensitive boy, and she knows his peers often leave him to his own little world.

 

Merlin sees very quickly that no other student has taken the same artistic licence with their uniform, and that he stands out like a sore thumb. If he hadn’t realised it for himself, the odd looks and stares and pointing and whispers and hushed giggles would have alerted him to that fact anyway. He feels a small flush of embarrassment, and then catches sight of his nose glittering and smiles inwardly. _You can’t be unhappy if your face is sparkling_. He presents himself at Reception, as he promised his mother. A nice lady with curly brown hair looks up from the desk.

“Wow! Great glitter!” she says with a broad grin. Merlin beams at her. “How can I help you, young man?”

“I’m Merlin,” he says, holding out his hand like his mum taught him. “It’s my first day in Year 8.” Her eyes widen in recognition.

“Your mum’s our new SRE teacher! Isn’t she with you?” She peers over Merlin’s shoulder as she takes his hand. He shakes his head and leans in conspiratorially.

“We agreed it was best not to be related during school hours,” he confides. The lady smiles again.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she assures him. “I’m Gwen, by the way. I’m the Pastoral Manager here.” Another progressive thing about Camelot High, is that teachers are called by their first name. She checks a list on her clipboard. “Well you are very lucky, Merlin, because I see here that you are in Gwaine’s class, and he’s our Music Director and your scholarship mentor. Isn’t that great?” Merlin nods enthusiastically. “First up is your meeting with the headmaster. Don’t worry,” Gwen adds, seeing his alarmed expression, “all new students have an interview with him on their first day. I’ll take you there now.” Merlin ambles behind her, a little nervously, staring up in wonder at the beautiful building. It’s like being in one of the National Trust properties his mums take him to at the weekend. Antique furniture and big rugs and stags heads on the wall and statues of old men everywhere. Merlin’s spellbound. They arrive at a large oak door and Gwen knocks on it lightly.

“Enter,” a male voice says, and Gwen pokes her head around the door.

“I’ve got Merlin Emerson, Hunith’s son, here to meet you.” Gwen looks back at Merlin. “It’s a secret they’re related,” she adds. Merlin hears a laugh, and movement, and then a stately gentleman appears at the door, relaxed in jeans and a tartan shirt.

“Welcome to Camelot High, Merlin,” he smiles. “Tell me, are you publicly related to Gaius, or is that also top secret information?” Merlin considers.

“People might find out he’s mum’s brother, so it’s probably wise to keep that secret too.” The headmaster nods seriously and extends his hand.

“Very sensible,” he agrees, as Merlin shakes it, “I’m Uther, come in. I’ve been very much looking forward to meeting you. Your classical piano composition for your entrance exam was remarkable.” He leads the way inside, and Gwen gives a little wave to Merlin, closing the door.

“Thank you, sir,” Merlin says happily, making himself cosy on the dark green Chesterfield sofa Uther has directed him towards. “My mama bought me an oriental Bechstein for my ninth birthday … I’ve been obsessed with piano ever since. And with the violin too, and the flute. Mama gets them second hand from the musicians at the festivals she runs,” Merlin stops and looks at Uther. “My other mum that is,” he clarifies. “Not the embarrassing mum.”

“Your embarrassing mum has a PhD, Merlin,” Uther grins. “I don’t think that’s embarrassing at all. She’s a very clever lady.” Merlin makes a face of disgust. Uther chuckles. “Well, you’re both very welcome here,” Uther says, “and we’re delighted to have you. Your teacher Gwaine is quite beside himself with excitement, having a musical genius in his class.” Merlin flushes with pleasure. Normally teachers ignore him, given that he’s a bit odd, and they don’t really know what to make of him or his unusual family. “I think you’ll settle into Camelot High very nicely, we’re a good bunch. My son Arthur is in your class, you must be sure to introduce yourself.” Merlin nods. Uther offers him a pink wafer. “Matches your shoes,” he comments, taking one himself and taking munching the end off enthusiastically. “Sadly my son is much more invested in sports than music,” he rolls his eyes. “But he’s a good little historian. Gets on like a house on fire with Gaius. I’m sure you’ll have enough in common. You’ll make friends quickly, I have no doubt!”

 

*

 

Merlin doesn’t make friends quickly. Despite the enthusiastic reception promised by his form tutor and music teacher, Gwaine, everyone else in the class makes a point of ignoring the odd boy in glitter. Until break time. Then the taunts about having two mums, and one mum working at the school teaching _sex_ start, and Merlin realises it’s a small town, and clearly no amount of secrecy on his part was going to hide the hottest local gossip of the season from his school-friends. No-one is exactly mean, but … no-one is exactly welcoming, either. The school is cool though. The teachers are all nice, and the building is nice, and the classes are interesting, and the music is _great_ , so all-in-all, Merlin feels like he’s a lot better off than he ever has been before. Especially as he gets both his mums when he gets home at the end of the day. He doesn’t tell them that he hasn’t made friends, it doesn’t matter to him, and he doesn’t want them to worry. But after a week of asking if there’s anyone he wants to invite home at the weekend, they stop asking, and resort to familiar concerned glances.

 

*

 

It’s his second week at Camelot High. He’s sitting by himself on a bench under the old willow tree in the courtyard, with his lunchbox on his lap, eating the tuna sandwich mum had made him this morning and feeding breadcrumbs to the robins. He’s realised that sitting outside alone is better than sitting in the canteen alone, where everyone can _see_ that he’s alone. That’s awkward. He doesn’t mind the fresh air.

“Hi!” a voice says, and Merlin turns in surprise as a blonde boy sprawls onto the bench next to him. “I’m Arthur,” he says, holding out a hand, “the headmaster’s son. I like your stars.” Merlin needed an extra dose of happiness today, so he stuck little gold stars all around his eyes, as well as silver glitter stick on his cheekbones and lemon meringue lipgloss. Merlin doesn’t know if he’s being mocked.

“Thanks,” he says uncertainly. And then wanting to return a compliment, he adds, “I like your tie.” Arthur is wearing a red tie with a gold dragon on it. He looks down with a grin.

“I love dragons!” he says. “All magic stuff really. You look kind of like a wizard with those stars.” Merlin grins, and Arthur grins back.

“So what’s with the whole sitting by yourself thing?” Merlin shrugs, taking another bite of his tuna sandwich. “I know dad told you I was in your class,” Arthur continues. “When you didn’t introduce yourself I figured you didn’t want to be friends with me because I’m the headmaster’s son? But then you didn’t introduce yourself to anyone else either.” Merlin looks at him.

“I don’t care that you’re the headmaster’s son,” he says, confused. “I’ve got two relatives teaching at the school. I think maybe my mum’s job freaks people out.” Arthur shakes his head.

“Nah. It’s because you’ve got _two_ mums. You’re a novelty.” Merlin stays quiet, and Arthur peers at him. “ _I_ don’t care that you have two mums,” he adds. “I think you’re lucky.” Merlin raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Seriously!” he exclaims. “I don’t even have one mum. Dad’s great and all, but a mum would be nice. You’ve got two!” Merlin feels a smile creeping across his face. He likes Arthur.

“Well, I don’t have a dad,” he offers in return, kicking the concrete a little. “I mean, I must do somewhere, but mama had a one-night stand at university and forgot to practice Safe Sex. She got me as a present.” Arthur snorts, throwing his head back and laughing in a way that Merlin likes. It makes his eyes crinkle.

“Your mums actually _told_ you that!?” he asks gleefully. Merlin nods.

“Sex Therapist mum remember?” he says gloomily. “I know all about how I tore mama’s vagina being born too. Mum was working at the pre-natal clinic she went to, that’s how they met. They fell in love when mama was pregnant.” Arthur’s eyes are round. Merlin flushes, wondering if he’s overshared.

“I can’t _wait_ for SRE!” he enthuses, pulling out a packet of Skittles and offering them to Merlin. Merlin takes one, wishing he had something to offer back.

“You can share my mums, if you like?” he says, realising he does having something that Arthur doesn’t. Arthur smiles and pours half his Skittles into Merlin’s lunchbox.

“Deal,” he agrees. “And you can share my dad. We’ll share parents.” Something inside Merlin’s chest flutters excitedly, and he realises he’s just made a friend.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Arthur and Merlin soon become inseparable, and Uther becomes good friends with Hunith and Freya as a result. Arthur’s dad owns the manor house the school is set in, and they have their own wing of it, so Merlin often goes round to Arthur’s after classes to play games. Uther teaches them how to play chess and makes them roast chicken for supper, before driving Merlin home. In return, Arthur goes round to Merlin’s at the weekend, and Freya introduces him to glitter (Arthur enthusiastically uses the glitter spray to cover every inch of his body, to Merlin’s considerable amusement), and Hunith teaches him how to bake cupcakes and cookies. They use far too many sprinkles and consume far too much sugar, and then sleep in sleeping bags in the back garden daring each other to do disgusting things, like eat worms.

 

Thanks to Arthur, Merlin makes other friends too. Morgana, Arthur’s cousin, and her friends Vivien and Sophia, and Percy and Lance and Leon, who all play rugby with Arthur.

 

*

 

When they’re sixteen, Arthur asks Sophia out on a date. One date turns into a relationship, and Arthur begins to spend more time with her. Merlin doesn’t like it. He misses Arthur, and resents anyone else getting his time. It’s when he sees Arthur going into a bedroom with Sophia at a house party and he suddenly feels _sick_ , that he realises _why_ he doesn’t like it. _He’s in love with Arthur himself._

 

“I’m gay,” he blurts out at the supper table one Saturday evening. Usually he’d be with Arthur, but he’s at the cinema with Sophia. Freya and Hunith turn identical unsurprised eyes at him.

“That’s great, darling,” Hunith says, putting her hand on his arm. “We’re gay too. We’re a gay family.” Merlin groans and puts his head in his arms. Hunith looks at Freya in confusion. Freya shrugs.

“Can you use your words, sweetie?” she asks him.

“Why’s it a good thing that I’m gay!?” Merlin explodes. “Do you have any idea how much _easier_ it would be to be straight? Then instead of sitting by myself every weekend whilst Arthur’s out having _practical_ sex education with Sophia, I could be dating someone too! Like Morgana!” Hunith and Freya look at each other again.

“But you _can_ date someone, sweetheart?” Hunith asks, confused. “Just date a boy instead of a girl?”

“And remember to have Safe Sex!” Freya adds promptly. Merlin glares daggers at her.

“I really don’t think I’m going to end up in _your_ predicament if I’m dating _boys_ ,” he says ironically. She looks at him assessingly.

“True. But you _could_ get HIV and lose all your teeth.” Hunith rolls her eyes at her wife.

“You don’t lose your teeth from HIV,” she says patiently, turning her attention back to Merlin. “Why can’t you date a boy? Are you embarrassed about being gay?” Merlin thinks about it and shakes his head.

“No,” he says sadly. “The boy I’m in love with is having practical sex education with Sophia.” Hunith frowns in sympathy, pushing back her chair and coming around the table to wrap her arms around her son.

“Darling,” she whispers, stroking his hair, and letting him cry. “Hush, little one. There, there. Your time will come.” Freya scoots to sit next to him too, putting a hand on his knobbly knee. 

“D’you want me to take out this Sophia bitch for you?” she offers, deadpan. Merlin snorts and wipes a hand across his eyes. “I can also make excellent pancakes?” This is when it’s good having two mums, Merlin thinks.

“You guys are the greatest,” he mumbles, wiping his glittery face across Hunith’s jumper. For once, she doesn’t even mind.

 *

A few weeks later, the doorbell rings. Merlin’s in the music room, playing Einaudi, when he hears voices, and then footsteps, and then the door bursting open.

“Merls!” Arthur’s booming voice cries. “What is this magical music you’re playing? I love it!” Merlin closes the piano lid and turns on the piano stool to look at Arthur. “Are they Quasimodo socks?” Arthur points. Merlin nods. Arthur settles in the armchair by the wall. “Well don’t stop!” he says bossily, waving at the piano. “Continue.” Merlin rolls his eyes, heart thumping painfully, cock jumping at the proximity of Arthur, his handsome, flushed face, gold hair falling over his eyes, his arrogant swagger and over-confidence and annoying enthusiasm all somehow causing Merlin to _ache_.

“I don’t feel like an audience,” he says shortly. “What’s up?” Arthur makes a _huh?_ face at him.

“What do you mean, ‘what’s up’? When have I ever had something up?” Arthur snorts at the inadvertent innuendo. “Actually,” he admits, “I did have something up with Sophia last night. She sorted the problem for me.” Merlin clenches his fists and tries to breathe through his nose, to focus on the glitter he can sense sparkling around his eyelids. “Merls?” Arthur says slowly, noticing his strained face. “Are you okay?” Merlin turns back to the piano.

“I’m fine,” he says.

“You’re clearly _not_ fine,” Arthur disagrees. Merlin shrugs.

“I guess it just pisses me off that you think you can just rock up here when you’re bored, or Sophia’s busy.” Arthur drags the armchair across the floor using his feet to paddle the way until he’s sitting right next to Merlin. He’s quiet for a moment, confused by Merlin’s attitude and heavy breathing.

“I came over because I realised we hadn’t hung out for ages and I missed you,” he says, annoyed. “I get that’s my fault, but -” he shrugs in frustration, jostling Merlin good-humouredly. “Well, wait until you get a boyfriend. You’ll see how distracting it is. Fortunately for you, I’ll be very understanding about it.” Merlin turns to looks at him.

“Boyfriend?” he says quietly. Arthur’s brow furrows.

“Well. I assumed …? I mean …” he scratches his neck. “Are you _straight_!?” he asks, amazed.

“You knew I was gay?” Merlin repeats. Arthur makes _oh come on, seriously?_ eyes at him.

“Duh,” he replies, flicking the glitter on Merlin’s cheek. Merlin feels like crying all over again. Somehow that makes it worse. That Arthur knew Merlin was an option, on some level, and chose not to take it. Logically he knows that’s ridiculous, Arthur can’t help his sexuality any more than Merlin can. But it still hurts.

“Okay,” Merlin says, feeling tired. “I’m sorry Arthur, I just need to be alone today. Can we catch up another time?” Arthur looks confused, and concerned, and sad, and all of it is threatening to _break_ Merlin, so he whispers “ _Please_?” Eventually Arthur nods. He stands up and pushes the armchair back into its corner, and then comes over to put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder.

“Whatever’s upset you Merls, you can talk to me about it, you know?” he says quietly. “I’m sorry I’ve been distracted by my own stuff. Clearly you have things going on that I’ve missed. Just -” he stops and ruffles Merlin’s hair, “- don’t be a stranger okay?” Merlin doesn’t respond, and after an age, Arthur lets himself out of the room. As soon as he hears the front door close, Merlin bursts into tears.

 

*

 

Somehow, Merlin manages to put on a mask around Arthur. Or maybe it’s just that he builds a wall around himself. He gets to a point where he can hang out with him, play chess, laugh, watch movies together, basically resume their friendship. Arthur seems to think that everything’s normal, relieved that Merlin’s being _Merlin_ again. Merlin distracts himself with other boys. He gets drunk on cheap beer at local festivals and kisses boys that aren’t Arthur. His body responds anyway, and he learns about how male bodies fit together with a nice drum player visiting Ealdor for the summer called Will, experimenting with blowjobs and fingering and then finally penetration. When they finally disappear into a tent together after Will’s finished playing a set, Arthur gives him a double thumbs up and fist-pumps the air, and Merlin’s heart meeps bleakly as Will tumbles him into the sleeping bags. He smiles as Will pushes inside and closes his eyes and thinks of Arthur, but Will leaves at the end of August, and Merlin goes back to secretly pining and moping.

 

*

 

It’s the winter term of Year 12, and everyone’s celebrating 17th birthdays: there are a lot of parties this school year. Arthur breaks up with Sophia after her own birthday party in October. Merlin worries about the happy dance his heart is doing, the dangerous spark of hope flaring back to life inside him, and he sits and drinks beer with Arthur, drowning both their sorrows.

“She changed,” Arthur said gloomily. “She used to be really sweet and fun. Suddenly this term she came back all demanding. ‘Get a car Arthur,’ ‘take me to Paris for my birthday Arthur,’ ‘it’s time to meet the grandparents Arthur.’ We’re seventeen!” Merlin glances at him.

“You won’t be short of other options,” he says, truthfully. Arthur grins at him and nudges his arm.

“Aww, mate. You know all the right things to say to a man.” Merlin raises an eyebrow.

“ _Obviously_ ,” he points out, like Arthur’s a moron. Arthur booms a laugh.

“Oh. Yeah …”

 

They get back to being friends like they were as kids. Now there are no relationships in the way, Merlin feels completely himself with Arthur again. Yes, he has to be careful not to get too physical, in case he accidentally does something stupid, like kissing him, but aside from that, he loves having his best friend back, and all of Arthur’s attention. They manage to go through Year 12 without any new romantic attachments, and Merlin is ecstatic.

 

*

 

In their last school summer holiday before Year 13, Merlin and Arthur and their gang go camping in the Lake District. Merlin sits in the front of Arthur’s Land Rover with Percy and Leon in the back singing Spandau Ballet songs at the top of their lungs on the drive up North, feet up on the dash, feeling carefree and happy.

 

Once their tents are pitched in a quiet forest glade, campfire burning merrily, sausages spitting over the open flames, everyone settles in a circle, chatting over cans of cider.

“Three things you’d take to a desert island?” Leon asks, prodding a sausage.

“Hunting knife, the collected works of Tolkein, and a satellite phone,” Morgana says immediately.

“Well that’s stupid,” Arthur says. “The phone battery would die.”

“It comes with it’s own generator and a never ending supply of gas,” Morgana retorts immediately. Arthur rolls his eyes, glancing at a smiling Merlin.

“I know what our Merls here would take,” he says, with a grin. “His piano, his glitters and me.” He smiles smugly and Merlin thinks he’s not wrong, except the order would be a bit different.

“And you’d bring a crate of beer, an ornate, full-sized mirror, and your stupid dumbbells,” Merlin fires back. His face is glittering emerald green in the firelight, making him look elfin and ethereal. 

“Touché,” Arthur replies lightly. I’d definitely enjoy looking at myself even more after a couple of weeks on a desert island.” Everyone groans.

“Seriously though,” Leon asks, enjoying his theme. “Your house is on fire. What three things do you save? I’d take my mobile, laptop and wallet.”

“You romantic,” Morgana teases. Arthur shrugs.

“Photo of mum and dad, mum’s wedding ring, and Merlin, who’s snoring on the couch with popcorn stuck to his face, as per usual.” Merlin raises an eyebrow. “What?” Arthur says defensively. “My previous answer stands for you. Piano, glitters, and me.”

“ _Also_ snoring on the couch, covered in glitter and cupcake sprinkles,” Merlin grins. Arthur grins right back.

“You can’t save _people_ ,” Leon argues, and the conversation moves on.

 

They stay up late, long after their hotdogs, drinking cider and then brandy and then whisky, until the world is spinning and the trees are blurry and everyone starts stumbling into their respective tents. Merlin feels drunk but also _charged_ , somehow, leaning back against a broken trunk and quietly watching Arthur, the way the shadows flicker across his face, the way he shines when he laughs, and his heart thumps louder and louder until he can’t fathom _how_ he hasn’t touched him yet.

 

When they eventually crawl into their tent, Arthur slumps giggling against Merlin, and Merlin’s drunk enough to throw caution to the wind, to stop worrying about the consequences of his actions, and he allows pure, burning _need_ to take over, running his fingers through Arthur’s soft hair, and leaning down to kiss him. Arthur responds to him naturally, kissing him right back, pulling Merlin tight against his body, and Merlin groans in surprise, shivering as his fingers scramble to find skin, one hand gripping Arthur’s face, neck, hair, the other pushing up Arthur’s shirt and running up his spine, down beneath his waistband across the plump, firm flesh of his arse. Their kiss moves from exploratory to urgent in no time, and Merlin can’t breathe from relief as his tongue tangles with Arthur's, fingers scrambling to pull off Arthur’s shirt, his trousers, his socks, his own clothes. Soon they’re pressed together naked, hard, leaking cocks smearing pre-come across each other’s bellies, and as the reality of the situation hits Merlin -  _he's naked with Arthur_ \- he arches and comes with a cry, spurting semen between Arthur’s legs.

“God. Sorry!” he gasps, looking down at a laughing Arthur, every bit as perfect as Merlin had imagined. He peppers his face with kisses. “Give me five minutes,” he pleads, gently biting Arthur’s lips, “I want you so badly, Arthur.” He’s trembling and terrified and Arthur kisses him softly, melding their bodies together again, calming Merlin, who eventually reaches blindly for his backpack, loathe to part even for a moment, fumbling for and then extracting a bottle of lube. He squirts the oily gel over two fingers and kisses Arthur’s neck as he slides his hand between Arthur’s legs and pushes into his body. He thinks he might come again, shaking with lust and devotion as he pumps his fingers in and out, trailing kisses down Arthur’s neck, across his collarbone, over his nipples, down to his hipbones, licking down his happy trail and whispering “I love you,” against his belly, nuzzling the soft skin, crooking his fingers to find Arthur’s prostate, and rubbing when Arthur gasps, “I’m so in love with you. You’re my best friend and my most important person and I love you, with my whole heart I love you …” He slides his mouth down lower to suck Arthur’s cock, licking and kissing and swallowing, _devouring_ him, savouring the closeness, his flavour, the scent of the man he loves. His heart is singing and his body is thrumming, and he knows he’s drunk, but it’s never, _ever_ , been like this, and he wants to be inside Arthur _now_.

 

Arthur’s relaxed and giggling a little, the world is spinning, and he’s drunk and happy and he feels _good_ ; Merlin’s giving him a blowjob and sliding his fingers in and out of Arthur, and everything feels floaty and warm. Arthur stops giggling when he begins to feel his arousal, the burning in his belly, the igniting flare that tells him an orgasm is beginning to build, and he groans in pleasure and arches into Merlin’s mouth, stroking fingers through his hair, when suddenly he grows conscious of what he’s doing and who he’s doing it with. Sobriety hits him like a _truck_ , as his brain short-circuits and fuses with a _what the fuck do you think you’re doing_? As if someone’s dumped a bucket of cold water over him, he realises with horror that Merlin’s preparing to _fuck_ him. In shock, Arthur slams both hands against Merlin’s shoulders and shoves him backwards so forcefully he hits the side of the tent, gasping in pain as his elbow crunches beneath him at an odd angle, wincing as he looks at Arthur in confusion, glittery face on the borderline of anguish, broken.

“Arthur?” he hears Merlin whisper, but he shakes his head, hurriedly pulling on his clothes and shoes and escaping the tent, running as fast and far away as possible, before nausea hits him and he heaves and throws up into a bush. He waits for the sickness to pass and for his mind to stop spinning, for his clenching heart to calm down, before he makes his way back to the campsite, sleeping in the back of his jeep with a coat pulled over him.

 

He wakes up feeling much better, and walks down to the river to wash and brush his teeth. He’s towelling off his hair when Merlin seeks him out. He looks terrible - dark bags under his eyes, bloodshot from crying, lip bitten raw, ashen-faced and teary. He’s not wearing any glitter. It’s the first time, in their five years of friendship, that Arthur hasn’t seen Merlin in glitter. He feels guilty immediately, and reaches for Merlin’s arm.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away so roughly like that. And I shouldn’t have run off. I was drunk and when the stupidness of what we were doing hit me, I freaked out. I’m an idiot.” Merlin brushes tears out of his eyes, wrapping his arms around himself as if to hold himself together. “Are you okay?” Arthur checks gently. “Did I hurt you?” Merlin looks diminished, somehow, looking at the ground and shaking his head.

“I’m fine,” he whispers. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to look at Arthur. “Now you’re sober …” he starts, biting his lip, voice shaking. “Now you’re sober, do you regret it? What we did? Were doing?” Arthur looks at him quizzically and rubs his neck.

“I mean, _regret_ ’s a strong word, Merls. We were really fucking drunk, weren’t we? God knows how we ended up doing … that.” Arthur shrugs. “Obviously in the moment I panicked, but it’s fine, it’s just a weird thing that happened, right? No harm done. As long as I really didn’t hurt you?” Merlin’s white, and looks very close to breaking. Arthur doesn’t understand the problem.

“Okay,” he manages to breathe out, backing away. “I’m just going to -” he gestures vaguely towards the woods and leaves, hurriedly. Arthur stares after him, feeling like he’s done something very, very wrong.

“He’s in love with you,” he hears behind him. He turns to see Morgana standing there, and wonders how long she’s been near the river.

“What?” he asks blankly.

“Merlin’s in love with you,” Morgana repeats, enunciating each word slowly and clearly. Arthur shakes his head, palms beginning to sweat. Merlin’s his best friend, how can he be in love with him?

“No,” he shakes his head, “he’s …” Suddenly burning, vivid memories of the night before play across his mind, Merlin’s passionate, possessive, eager kisses, his professions of love, his admission of _want_ , and he realises it’s true. And that means, for Merlin, their almost-sex last night actually _meant_ something. Something which he just casually dismissed. “Shit,” he exhales, sitting on the ground and rubbing his face. “What do I do, Morgs?” Morgana sits next to him, plaiting her long dark hair. When she’s tied a band around the end she flicks it back over her shoulder and looks at him sympathetically.

“Figure out if you love him too,” she shrugs. Arthur feels baffled.

“Of course I love him,” he says flatly. “He’s like a brother to me. I’m straight.” Morgana picks up a twig and draws spirals in the earth with it.

“Sometimes,” she says carefully, “when people get drunk, feelings they might not be conscious of having come to the surface. Or, you know, get revealed, when all the inhibitions have gone away.” She looks at Arthur steadily. “We’re cousins, we’d never make out if we got drunk, and that’s not just because we’re family, it’s because _we don’t want to_. You and Leon, you’d never make out if you got drunk. I know Merls is gay, so there’s an instigator there. But if Leon instigated it, or Percy, would you kiss either of them back?” Arthur shakes his head slowly, and Morgana nods, looking at the water. “I think what happened with Merlin last night … I think you’re open to it, you just don’t _know_ that you’re open to it consciously, yet. Because you’ve only ever dated women, you assume you’re straight. Maybe you’re bi? Or maybe you’re straight but you love Merlin?” Arthur’s brow furrows.

“How do you know what happened last night?” he asks, embarrassed. Morgana raises an eyebrow at him.

“We’re sleeping in tents, cuz. There was literally nothing but a waterproof handkerchief barrier between all of us and your and Merlin’s whispering and gasping and moaning and -” Arthur holds up a hand.

“I get it,” he says, alarmed. “Please stop.”

“Merlin kept telling you how much he loves you,” Morgana adds, “and you kept moaning. You weren’t holding back or being quiet either, Arthur.” She stands up, brushing down her jeans, and bends down to press a kiss to the top of Arthur’s head. He watches the river for a long time, thinking.

 

It puts a strain on the camping trip, although both Merlin and Arthur try to act normally, for the sake of everyone else. But Merlin can barely look at Arthur, and avoids interacting directly with him at all costs, and the group awkwardly fills their pained silences with inane, mindless chatter. At night, Merlin lies on his side facing away from Arthur, curled into a protective ball, and Arthur doesn’t know what to say to him, so they don’t speak.

“I hate this,” he says on their last night, into the dark, not even knowing if Merlin’s awake. “I hate things not being okay between us.” He wants to reach out and _touch_ Merlin, to hug him, to comfort him, and he thinks back on what Morgana said. Maybe she’s right. He’s certainly never had these kinds of feelings for any of his other guy friends. But Arthur’s always figured he feels more protective around Merlin because Merlin’s more _girly_ , with all his glitters and everything.

“Me too,” Merlin whispers quietly back.

“I miss you wearing glitter,” Arthur says, and Merlin turns over to face him, still huddled in on himself, eyes glistening with tears.

“Please don’t say things like that,” he pleads. “It makes me think you feel more for me than you do. I know it’s not your fault,” he adds hurriedly, “it’s mine, and I’m sorry for what I did to you, and for ruining our friendship, but please help me by not making private, intimate jokes.” Arthur can’t bear the tears, or the pain on Merlin’s face, and so he stops thinking and acts naturally, drawing Merlin into his arms, and wiping his thumbs gently under Merlin’s eyes.

“You didn’t do anything to me,” Arthur assures him, kissing his forehead, “we were both drunk and we did it together. I don’t think you took advantage, if that’s what you’ve been thinking, I’m not angry, or disgusted. Just confused.” Merlin closes his eyes and lets out a shuddery sob as Arthur strokes his hair, kissing his face tenderly. Eventually, he tilts Merlin’s face upwards and kisses him gently on the lips. Merlin moans in protest into his mouth, trying to push Arthur way, but Arthur keeps kissing him, holding him tightly against his chest, and Merlin begins to tentatively kiss back, and it feels _right_. He pulls away to look at Merlin, who looks dazed and scared and bewildered and smiles softly. “Can we work this out together?” Arthur asks him. “I can’t make any promises, but I’m open to exploring what this might be, and the feelings I have for you, if we agree to take this _slowly_ and just see what happens?” Merlin looks torn, and Arthur kisses him again. “Stop thinking, Merls, I’m trying not to,” he chides him lightly. “I do feel love for you, I think maybe more than I’d even realised,” he admits, stroking Merlin’s neck. “But I don’t want to hurt you and mess up you or our friendship.” Merlin’s eyes are round, but there’s a smile growing there. Eventually it breaks free, lighting up his whole face as he nods, kissing Arthur’s chin.

“Thank you,” he mumbles. Arthur leans down to kiss him again.

“Don’t keep secrets anymore,” he whispers, resting his head on the pillow next to Merlin’s. “I need to know if something I’m doing is hurting you.” Merlin nods apologetically.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Despite Arthur’s best intentions, things with Merlin definitely don’t progress _slowly_.

 

When they get back from camp, Arthur stays at Merlin’s for the night, happily regaling Hunith and Freya about the joys of the Lake District over Chinese takeaway. As soon as they’re in Merlin’s room, alone, Merlin pushes him against the door, hungrily claiming his mouth, urgently attaching himself to Arthur, hard cock soon poking into Arthur’s thigh. Arthur finds Merlin’s needy, greedy enthusiasm hard to resist, and he pulls Merlin’s wiry frame against his own, sucking kisses at his neck, revelling in Merlin’s bitten off gasps of _Arthur_. Merlin _in the moment_ , is quite something to behold; it’s like he’s physically incapable of holding back, and his body thrums under Arthur’s fingers, he whispers _I love you, I’m in love with you, I love you_ , again and again against Arthur’s neck as Arthur slips a hand into his pants and lazily, curiously strokes him to completion. Merlin’s eyelids flutter in bliss as Arthur touches him, caresses him, and he moans lowly as he comes into Arthur’s hand, shuddering against him. Arthur holds him close, wiping his hand on his jeans as Merlin pulls back and pushes him down on to the bed, slides off his trousers, and proceeds to blow him again, this time until Arthur comes into his mouth. Arthur looks down at his now glitter-smeared cock and sparkly pubes and giggles at the absurdity. Merlin peeks up at him in shy, happy adoration. 

 

It’s addictive. For the rest of their summer holidays they spend most of their time in bed, or on floors, or on sofas, or in hidden parts of the garden, tangled together, exploring each other’s bodies, discovering the only parts of each other they haven’t already in the last five years. They’re kissing lazily in Arthur’s bed, naked, Merlin smiling against Arthur’s lips, when Arthur rolls them over, pressing Merlin into the bed.

“I wan’t to do what we did before,” he whispers, feeling strangely vulnerable. “In the tent. _Without_ me pushing you away this time. I bought stuff.” Merlin’s eyes widen and he pulls Arthur’s face to his own, kissing him sweetly.

“You know we don’t have to do that?” Merlin says seriously. Arthur nods.

“I know. I want you to. If you want to. Please.”

“Oh _Arthur_ ,” Merlin breathes, kissing him senseless. “Of course I want to. I love you so much.” Arthur grins and rolls over to his bedside draw, extracting lube and condoms. They lie side by side, watching each other, occasionally reassuring each other with kisses, as Merlin carefully and patiently opens Arthur up, brushing his fingers across and inside Arthur as gently and slowly as possible, and Arthur _feels_ Merlin’s love in his fingers, in his kisses, sees it in his eyes. He lies on his stomach, head pillowed in his arms, as Merlin pushes inside him, kissing the back of his neck and lacing their fingers together as he bottoms out.

“Am I hurting you?” he asks, sheathed inside Arthur, holding still. It does hurt, but it’s okay.

“I like it,” Arthur replies, squeezing Merlin’s fingers. He feels a wetness on his neck, hears a sniff, and realises that Merlin’s crying. It’s not like he can turn around right now. “Merls?” he enquires.

“Sorry,” Merlin whispers, turning Arthur’s face to the side to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I never thought I’d actually get to have this. To be close to you like this. It hurt so much, _not_ touching you. And now …” he sniffs again, and begins to withdraw and re-enter slowly. “It’s overwhelming.” He presses his forehead into Arthur’s shoulder as he moves in and out of him, and Arthur feels emotional too. He reaches a hand back to hold Merlin’s thigh, and squeezes lightly.

“Stop,” he whispers, and Merlin stops immediately, pulling out and rolling Arthur over worriedly. Arthur gets comfortable on his back, opens his legs, and pulls Merlin between them, directing him back inside, legs and arms wrapped around him. “I want to see you whilst you’re making love to me,” he smiles, and the beam that lights up Merlin’s sparkly face - an iridescent silver today, making him look like a diamond (or a Cullen) - is breathtaking. Merlin moves deeply inside him and watches the emotions flicker across Arthur’s face, smiling as Arthur closes his eyes and begins to arch against him, strong and sensuous, and by far the sexiest thing Merlin has ever seen. He strokes Arthur until he comes, and then releases his spend inside Arthur, pumping the condom full. They stay pressed together, hearts beating fast, stroking each other.

 

Later, once they’ve showered, Arthur is lying on his stomach on his bed, when Merlin emerges from the bathroom, grinning as he sits between Arthurs legs, pulling them open to carefully inspect his hole. He runs a gentle finger over it.

“No damage,” he says quietly, feeling oddly possessive of the inflamed skin. He leans down and licks his tongue over the reddened pucker, lightly sucking it, and soothing it, and working his tongue in and out. Arthur’s making surprised, needy little exhales, and Merlin _loves_ the feeling of being able to turn Arthur on, being able to give him pleasure: it makes him feel powerful.

“What the hell is this sorcery?” Arthur mumbles into the duvet, rubbing himself against the bed, and Merlin grins and begins to suck, face nuzzled firmly into Arthur’s arse.

 

“Oh, good god!” he suddenly hears, and looks up from Arthur’s bottom to see Uther covering his eyes in the doorway. “Jesus Christ! Sorry boys, I didn’t realise … well that’s good, I mean, carry on … but … safe, are you being safe?” He turns around so that his back is turned to the debauched sight of his son spreadeagled on the bed with a boy licking his arsehole. “I’ve got condoms, Arthur, if you need them?” Merlin is frozen in place, tongue still in Arthur’s hole. He has not even the squiggliest idea what to do.

“Dad!” Arthur says, scandalised, flapping a hand backwards at Merlin’s head as if to swat him away. “Of course we’re using condoms! Merlin’s mum’s our Sex Ed teacher! Merlin only exists because his own mum failed to practice Safe Sex, so it’s kind of been drilled into both of us!” Merlin thinks it’s an odd time to mention the unfortunate circumstances of his conception, but he’s in no position to talk (literally).

“Fine, fine,” Uther mutters hurriedly. “I was just coming to tell you that supper’s nearly ready. Will you both be … ah … that is to say, will you be finished, soon, or … I mean, I can put it in the warming oven until later, or …”

“We’ll be down dad, thanks. Please leave now and end this excruciating conversation.”

“Right. Excellent. Good then. Enjoy.” Uther closes the door, and Merlin and Arthur hear him incredulously repeating “ _Enjoy?_ ” to himself in the corridor. Merlin still hasn’t moved. Arthur rolls onto his back, and pulls Merlin up the bed. They look at each other and simultaneously break into disbelieving, nervous, horrified laughter, clutching each other in support.

“Why does your dad have condoms?” Merlin asks him when their breathing has calmed.

“Shut up,” Arthur says, shaking himself. “The last ten minutes never happened. I’m deleting them. It’s the only way I can move forwards with my life.”

“Good plan,” Merlin nods fervently, flushing in mortification as he wonders what he must have looked like to Uther, butt naked, arse in the air, face buried in arse.

“Merlin,” Arthur says quietly. Merlin turns to look at him. Arthur strokes his nose.

“I’m in love with you too,” he smiles. “With my whole heart.”

“I’m the luckiest boy in the world,” Merlin whispers, cuddling close to him, electrified with love. “You’re the best boyfriend, Arthur.” He feels Arthur’s grin, and nuzzles him until suppertime.

 

*

 

Merlin’s sitting two desks in front him, trying to shrink himself as small as possible, as usual, for his mum’s fortnightly SRE class. He’s not doing a very good job of hiding, rainbow glitter in his dark curls, astonishingly beautiful. Arthur grins as Hunith walks in and Merlin slips even lower in his seat.

“Welcome back to your final year at school everyone,” Hunith says briskly, setting up her laptop at the front of the class. “Today we’re going to have a slightly more _mature_ SRE discussion. You are all young adults now, and Sex Education is something you have been well versed in over the years. This term, we’re going to focus our attention instead on _Relationship_ Education. How to have a healthy relationship _after_ the sex part. But in our first lesson we’ll be talking about Parental Relationships, and how to tell your father and/or _mothers_ that you’re a) having sex, and b) in a relationship for the first time, so that they’re not a) taken by surprise, or b) left in the dark. Who wants to start?” Arthur bursts out laughing as Merlin actually slides off his chair and under the table. “Something you want to share, Merlin?” Hunith asks innocently.

“Nope,” the disembodied voice answers.

“In the interests of the aforementioned _maturity_ required in discussions about relationships, not to mention the importance of _honesty_ , would you like to revise your answer, perhaps?”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” the desk mutters.

“I was given orders by the headmaster,” Hunith replies.

“Oh, _god_ ,” the desk groans miserably. Arthur decides it’s probably time to hide under the table too. Relationship Education can wait. He and Merlin figured out the Sex part for themselves; he’s certain they can figure out the Relationship part too, in their own time.

 

*

 

Ten years later, on their wedding day, it seems he was right.

 


End file.
